


Right Under His Nose

by RhiaDalish



Series: Broody Comes To Skyhold [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Crossover, Fluff, Herald's Rest, Skyhold, pre here lies the abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhiaDalish/pseuds/RhiaDalish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the battle at Adamant, Warden Alistair drinks with the others at Skyhold. A mysterious stranger appears with an urgent question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Under His Nose

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on tumblr.

“And then…”Alistair paused to let the raucous laughter quiet enough for him to be heard, “and then the bloody Hero of Ferelden, completely in the buff, leapt over the campfire.”

“If the next part of the story is a metaphor for smoked ham, I’m out,” Dorian groaned, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

Alistair swigged on his ale, slopping a good portion down his tunic and laughing. “Oh! Where was I? So the Hero of Fel…redren jumped over the fire and we all watched in horror because surely this was the moment the Hero falls into a fire and roasts to death, but no! The landing was pretty spot on. We clapped and everything.”

“Really? No burns or even a sprained ankle?” Varric let his disappointment show. He had been listening intently and had barely touched his drink.

“Oh ho ho,” Alistair shook his finger and nodded, “We all thought the mighty Hero had done the impossible again, but suddenly it started to smell a lot like burnt hair…”

“Someone had a forest fire!” roared Bull, slapping Krem on the back and making him nearly topple off the back of the chair.

“Commence frantic crotch slapping and us pouring everything liquid we can find onto the, shall we say, brush fire…”

“Is that what that smell was in the tower?” Cullen slammed down his tankard. Alistair broke into laughter, nodding and pounding the table.

“All right, all right you lot. Closing time,” Cabot grumbled as he started pushing his way through the drunken ranks to collect the tipped and empty mugs. The boisterous crowd booed and groaned, but knew better than to argue with the surly dwarf.

“Hey, Alistair,” Varric caught the warden as he started to rise from his chair. Alistair swayed a little in his seat, but smiled pleasantly.

“Yeeeeeeeees?” The warden hiccupped.

“Mind if I ask you a few things about your travels with the Hero of Ferelden?”

“What, so can write a book? Can there be pirates in it?”

“No.” A flat voice shot at them from a dark corner of the tavern. Alistair nearly toppled trying to look for the source, but Varric’s face was frozen. “No pirates.”

A hooded figure emerged from the dark corner, gliding towards the frozen dwarf and the confused warden.

“And why not pirates? … you… sneaky… anti-pirate man!” Alistair went to poke at the mystery man’s chest but the figure sidestepped. The warden finally crashed to the floor in a groaning heap.

“Is that really _the_ Alistair? King Marric’s son?” the shadowy man asked incredulously as he pulled back his cowl, revealing a mane of stark white hair, and sat on the newly vacated seat.

“That he is,” Varric offered Alistair an arm, but the warden waved it away and rolled onto his back. “What are you doing here, Fenris?”

“Why do you think,” it wasn’t a question because Fenris knew the dwarf had the answer.

“You two know… you two?” Alistair waved his arms back and forth, still laying on his back.

“Warden Alistair, this is Fenris. He was part of the Kirkwall crowd back when Hawke and I were up to no good.”

“You both are still up to no good,” Fenris didn’t hide his disapproval.

“Does Hawke know you’re here?” Varric finally took a drink from his mug.

“Not yet,” Fenris picked up the mug that had been Alistair’s and downed the remaining contents.

“Hey!” Alistair rolled on his side and pushed himself up. “That’s mine.”

“I’m surprised it took you this long, Broody. How the hell did Hawke manage to give you the slip anyhow?”

“Oh!” Alistair was sitting now, his glazy eyes wide. “ _You’re_ Fenris? I’ve heard all about you.” Alistair teased. Varric winced.

“What?” Fenris turned in his seat and glared at the drunken warden.

“You and Hawke,” Alistair was almost standing, decided it wasn’t going to work out, and sat again with crossed legs.

“What about us,” Fenris’s face began to take the guise of a snarling cat and Varric took the queue to diffuse the potentially violent situation.

“It’s normal for people to talk about their loved ones, Fenris. That’s all he meant,” Varric put a hand on the elf’s should and held out another half-full mug that someone had left behind. Fenris finished it off, placated for the moment.

“You know that has someone else’s spit in it,” Alistair managed to stand this time and staggered to the table, sitting next to Fenris much to the elf’s displeasure. “You might as well kiss all the people whose... drinks you’re…drinking…. drinky drinks…”

“Does that include you?” Fenris said with a raised eyebrow, Varric nearly choked on his ale. It had been some time since he had been around Fenris and forgot how sudden and stoic the elf’s sarcasm was.

“I know that I’m a very han-trative man and have sooo many redeeming qualities, but I’d have to tell Hawke and it would just be one big… kerfuffle. How about a suggestive wink?” The warden gave the elf the most comically exaggerated wink he could muster.

“A ker-what?” Fenris’s lips twitched.

“Kerfluff… kerf…” Alistair waved his hand in dismissal, “you heard me.”

“So Varric,” Fenris fixed his emerald gaze at the dwarf. Varric knew this was not going to be pleasant.

“No, Fenris.”

“What do you mean ‘No’?”

“Wait,” Alistair leaned forward, “What was the question?”

“Where is Hawke, Varric?” Fenris pounded the table with his fist.

“If I could tell you,” Varric took a sip from his mug, reminding Fenris that he had known him way too long to be intimidated, “I still wouldn’t.”

“Why?” Fenris and Alistair asked in unison.

“Because I was asked not to,” Varric crossed his arms across his chest.

“That’s not very nice,” Alistair shook his head and flopped his arm around the elf’s shoulder as a gesture of solidarity. Fenris’s markings started to glow menacingly. Alistair took his arm back, sputtering apologies.

“I’m not a very nice person,” Varric reminded him. “How long have you known me, elf?”

“Fine,” Fenris grabbed the mug from the dwarf’s hand and drained it, “I don’t need your help. I’ll find Hawke on my own.”

“Rude,” Alistair was looking into his empty mug.

“What are you three still doing here? I thought I told you lot to clear out!” Cabot had a broom in his hand and was about to start swinging it.

The three stomped, strode, and stumbled from the Herald’s Rest and out into the cool, brisk evening air. Fenris stopped and scouted around, then made a beeline for the main keep. He was halfway up the first stone staircase when Varric caught him by the arm.

“Where the hell are you going, elf?”

“I’m going to ask your new _friend_ where Hawke is,” Fenris whipped his arm away.

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Alistair leaned against the stairway and shook his head.

“Why is that, Warden?” Fenris growled.

“Um… because the Inquisition…isitor…is probably sleeping.”

Fenris made a disgruntled noise and continued up the stairs.

“Fenris you can’t just go barging into the Inquisitor’s quarters. There’s guards!”

“Ha!” Fenris scoffed.

“Really, Fenris? Are you going to kill the Inquisitor’s guards? Is that your actual plan?”

Fenris deflated a little, realizing how ridiculous he was being.

“I can help, you know,” Alistair tried to cross his ankles in a casual gesture but almost tripped himself in the process.

“No,” Fenris shot the rejection at Alistair like an arrow. The warden shrugged and stumbled off in the direction of the guest quarters. “Tell me, Varric.”

“Come on, elf. Let it go,” Varric sighed then started up the stairs. “Tell you what, I have a key to the wine cellar if you at least give it a rest until morning.”

“You can’t bribe me with wine, dwarf.”

Varric was taken aback. “Well that’s a surprise! Not even a 60 year old Tevinter blush?”

Fenris thought about it, then scowled and shook his head, poking the dwarf in his hairy chest. “Now, Varric!”

“Look, Broody, Hawke already went through this much trouble to get here without your knowing, why would I throw that all away now?”

“Because I need to know!”

“Your safety is more important to Hawke.”

“Dammit, Varric! I’m going to –“

“Well if you two are going to fight on a staircase, at least use swords. Make it count,” Hawke stood, one hand on hip, the other helping Alistair stand.

“Told yooooou,” Alistair gloated.

**Author's Note:**

> This will most likely continue!


End file.
